The Best Cheeseball

March warm-up. Easter is coming. Set the Table at New Birth Saturday morning. Six girls. We did baked chicken.

Daddy in his apartment in the back. I brought him his coffee and his medication this morning. He grumbled. The grumble was the love. Marcus, 20, studying for finals at Alabama.

Fried chicken Saturday. Buttermilk overnight. Seasoned flour. The cast iron at three-fifty. Skin crisp.

Jasmine, 18, home from Howard for the weekend. Isaiah, 17, shot baskets in the driveway after school.

I called Mama at the stove without realizing I was doing it. Some habits are the love.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.

Between the Friday cookout where I brought my mac and cheese and the church potluck where my pan came back without so much as a crumb, I’ve been thinking about what it means to bring something to a table that people are counting on. This cheeseball is the kind of thing I make when I need food to do the talking before I even open my mouth — it’s simple, it’s rich, and it disappears fast, which around here is the only review that matters. Miss Ernestine would probably tell me it needs more mustard, and she might not be wrong.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

16 oz cream cheese, softened to room temperature
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, freshly shredded
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1 cup pecans, finely chopped (for coating)
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, finely chopped (for coating)
Crackers, celery sticks, and sliced vegetables for serving

Instructions

Soften and combine. In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened cream cheese with a hand mixer or wooden spoon until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes.
Add flavor. Mix in the shredded cheddar, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, and cayenne (if using) until fully incorporated. Fold in the sliced green onions.
Shape the ball. Turn the mixture out onto a large sheet of plastic wrap. Using your hands, shape it into a ball. Wrap tightly in the plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or overnight, until firm.
Prepare the coating. On a flat plate or shallow dish, combine the finely chopped pecans and fresh parsley. Mix together evenly.
Coat and finish. Unwrap the chilled cheeseball and roll it firmly through the pecan-parsley mixture, pressing gently so the coating adheres evenly on all sides.
Serve. Place the cheeseball on a serving platter surrounded by crackers, celery sticks, and your choice of vegetables. Serve immediately or return to the refrigerator until ready to serve.

Nutrition (per serving)

The Best Cheeseball — What You Bring When the Block Expects You